


The Empty Spaces

by still_lycoris



Category: X-Men: Apocalypse (2016) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Despair, Guilt, Illusions, M/M, Past Character Death, Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 00:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7197299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Apocalypse gives Erik a reward. Erik doesn't care that it's not real.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Empty Spaces

Sometimes, when Erik has been particularly good, Apocalypse gives him a gift.

“Do you want him tonight, my child?”

Erik doesn’t always say yes. Sometimes he wants Apocalypse to know that Erik appreciates him too (and sometimes, sometimes he knows it’s a lie and he can’t, he can’t – ) But usually, his heart soars when he hears that question and he nods and then Charles is standing before him, smiling, hands out-stretched.

“Erik, my love.”

(and really, it’s not wrong, is it? Because Apocalypse _is_ Charles, when Erik looks at him now, he can see the contours of Charles’s face there too, even see a glimmer of blue in those dark eyes. It _is_ Charles so it isn’t wrong to take the illusion and see Charles as he used to be, there’s nothing wrong with it at all …)

Erik falls into those arms like an anchor into the ocean, seeking solid ground and Charles holds him close and strokes his hair and he _smells_ the same, he _feels_ the same and it’s Charles, it’s his Charles (it is. It is. It _is_.)

“Erik, darling,” Charles murmurs and kisses him; kisses his neck and his hair and his cheeks until Erik finally loses patience and kisses his mouth as hard as he can. Charles has always liked it rough, he kisses back with eager greed and it’s perfect, it’s his Charles and Charles is _there_ and Charles understands, just like he always did … 

“ _My_ Erik.”

They kiss and touch and Erik pulls Charles on top of him, lets Charles do whatever he will and Charles does, hands and mouth and body slick with sweat, hair falling over his face as he works Erik into a frenzy and Erik writhes beneath him and relishes every moment of it because _Charles_ …

(And if that touch of possessiveness isn’t quite how Charles ever was, if his hands are a little more grasping, a little more powerful, it doesn’t matter, does it? It’s still _Charles_ and Charles still loves him and that’s all that matters – )

“Beautiful,” he tells Charles wildly. “You’re so beautiful, I love you, I always did, I always will … ”

(don’t think about Magda. Don’t _ever_ think about Magda. Because she’s gone, she’s gone forever and she’d be so sad, she’d never want the world like this – )

“ _Love_ ,” Charles calls him and his hands and mouth become only more glorious, only _better_ (and if it’s not the same, that doesn’t _matter_ because it’s Charles and everything is fine, it _is_ , it’s fine and everything is right, it has to be – )

“Never leave me?” Charles murmurs and promises spill from Erik’s lips like water from a jug; never, ever, ever …

(“ _Erik!_ ” Charles screamed over Angel’s shoulder as they walked away and Erik ignored it because this was how it had to be, there couldn’t be anything else now and he had made his choice and it was the right one. The only one. The world is poisoned and they will tear it down and why should Erik care what happens in the crossfire?)

Charles is never satisfied with just once or even twice. Long after Erik would be content with kisses and cuddles, Charles still searches for more with greedy hands and demanding mouth and Erik can deny him nothing, doesn’t want to deny him and so he lies in silk and linen and lets himself be overwhelmed with pleasure (dead, so many dead, so many blank, unseeing eyes even from those that live – )

“Beautiful,” Charles says and Erik kisses him desperately and his body shakes with love and want and – ( _Charles, what have I done, what have I done, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, let me take it back, I swear I’ll take it back –_ )

Apocalypse always becomes himself again at the end; pink skin to blue, dark hair to smooth skin, blue eyes to a black darker than any night than Erik can remember. He cradles Erik in his arms and his power fills Erik and it’s warm and rich and what else could he ever need? (Magda's joy when he came home from work, Nina sitting on his lap listening to a story, Charles’s warm acceptance and endless hope …)

“My child,” Apocalypse says and kisses him gently.

“Yes,” Erik agrees. “Always.”

(“You could make me forget,” he whispered once because it was dark and he hurt and he didn’t care any more what this creature with Charles’s powers could hear. “You could make it all go away. Why won’t you just make it all go away?”

“My child,” Apocalypse said softly. “You are perfect to me as you are.”)


End file.
